


Best Friends (Better Off as Lovers)

by strawbebbyy



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:09:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28765338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawbebbyy/pseuds/strawbebbyy
Summary: For once tonight, Ryuji doesn’t avert his gaze; doesn’t become sheepish under Akira’s intense stare. He holds eye contact, and the world around them disappears. Right now the streets of the red-light district - the cop, the people milling about outside the clubs and bars, the neon lights and flashy signs - don’t exist. It’s just Akira and Ryuji sharing the same space; sharing the same breath.“Are you going to let go?” Ryuji asks, voice no louder than the hum of the neon sign they’d stood under together at Crossroads earlier.Akira swallows hard.“Do I have to?”----Akira and Ryuji drink for the first time, together at Crossroads. A moment is had.
Relationships: Amamiya Ren/Sakamoto Ryuji, Kurusu Akira/Sakamoto Ryuji, Persona 5 Protagonist/Sakamoto Ryuji
Comments: 1
Kudos: 99





	Best Friends (Better Off as Lovers)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Bang the Doldrums by fob

Akira traces his finger along the rim of the glass in front of him, scooting over in the big booth until his leg is pressed against Ryuji’s.

“Couldn’t that journalist have ordered us somethin’ that doesn’t taste so nasty?” Ryuji grimaces at the liquid remaining in his own glass.

“Hey, she bought drinks for us. Can’t really complain about that.”

Ryuji grins. “Like hell I can’t!” He nudges his glass towards Akira. “Want what’s left? It’s too nasty for me to finish.”

There’s a mere sip left in the bottom of the glass, a pale amber liquid that glints in the red lighting of the bar. It seems like a waste to not finish it, so Akira picks up the glass and downs the tiny bit of alcohol. Ryuji watches, face screwed up and nose crinkled the whole time.

“Nasty. Don’t tell me you _liked_ that stuff?”

“It wasn’t _good_. But it can’t have bothered you too much, you drank the first one Ohya gave you.”

“I think it got worse the more I had.” 

Akira places the empty glass on the worn table, bumping his own glass with his elbow and knocking it off the edge of the table in the process. It clatters to the floor, but doesn’t break. Ryuji laughs, the sound loud in the quiet bar. It echoes in the empty establishment, and all the noise draws the attention of Lala.

As Akira picks the glass up off the floor, he notices Lala is watching them now.

“D’you think the owner knows?” Ryuji asks, following his line of sight.

“Knows what? That Ohya was ordering drinks and giving them to us? Yeah.” He rests his head on Ryuji’s shoulder.

“You’re not sleepy, are you?”

“No.” He peers up at his friend. His yawn betrays him, though.

Ryuji shakes his shoulder, dislodging Akira’s head. “C’mon, wake up man! The night’s still young!”

Akira’s about to complain about the rough treatment when a shadow falls over their table.

“Excuse me, boys.” Lala stands there, a stern but not unkind look on her made up face. “It’s getting late. I think perhaps the two of you should be headed home.”

“Okay,” Akira agrees, scooting out of the booth. Ryuji follows close behind, as if they can’t allow more than six inches of space between the two of them.

They stop to say a jovial goodbye to Ohya, who seems more keen on having a conversation than on letting the two boys escape the bar.

"So who's your pal, anyway?" she asks Akira, tipping her glass in Ryuji's direction. "I've never seen you bring anyone with you when you come down here."

"This is my friend, Ryuji. He goes to my school."

Ohya sizes the two of them up, and gives Akira a knowing look that makes his stomach twist up into knots.

"Just friends?" She raises her eyebrows. "You'd be a cute couple."

Ryuji splutters. "W-well. That..." He stuffs his hands into his pockets, the relaxed slope of his shoulders becoming a rigid, tense line.

Akira makes a move towards the exit. "Oh, well, we should probably get going so... thanks for the drinks."

He pushes open the door to the bar, and steps out into the street. It’s not quite fall yet but the weather has started cooling down, and the late-summer air is nice compared to his own too-warm body.

He turns to look at Ryuji, who’s just emerging from the bar. The light of the “Crossroads” sign throws pink-purple hues across the planes of his face and catches on the edges of his hair, casting a neon halo around his form. Akira runs even a little bit warmer at the sight.

Ryuji steps close, until their hands almost touch at their sides.

“You’re starin’ at me, dude.” He cracks a big, easy going smile, nudging Akira with his shoulder. After the motion, he doesn’t break the contact between their bodies, and the two stand in the street in front of Crossroads with their shoulders brushing together.

“It’s because you look pretty.” Akira admits, and he grins when Ryuji’s eyes flicker down to the pavement for a second.

In the back of his mind, Akira wonders if this moment, standing close in the neon ambiance of the red-light district, means anything. But Ryuji’s a hands-on, physically affectionate person. All these lingering touches aren't exactly out of the ordinary - even if tonight they linger longer than usual. Akira's deluding himself, intoxicated and hopeful, and he knows it. He doesn’t ponder it for more than a second, because then Ryuji’s laughing at something that Akira must've missed, and Akira is swept up in the joyous sound.

“I thought for sure we were gonna be in trouble when… uh… what’s her name?”

“Lala?”

“Yeah. I thought for sure she was gonna be mad at us.”

All Akira can do is snicker a little. There's nothing funny about this. They could’ve been in trouble, it's not an unfounded thought for Ryuji to have had. But it makes him grin ear-to-ear. It’s fun to break the rules sometimes. It’s nice to not have to be on his best behavior, playing up the mild-mannered, meek attitude he’s adopted since coming to Tokyo.

“C’mon, man, if we aren’t gonna go home yet we at least shouldn’t stand around outside the bar.” Ryuji throws an arm around Akira’s shoulders, and the two begin meandering in a random direction.

Akira thinks he’s a little more drunk than Ryuji, which is bullshit. They both drank the same amount. He doesn’t mean to lament this fact out loud, but he must, because Ryuji pulls Akira into a gentle headlock and gives him a noogie.

Ryuji snorts, “I guess you’re just a lightweight.”

Akira pouts, smoothing his hair. And he doesn't miss the way Ryuji watches the motion of his fingers in his messy curls.

“You messed up my hair.” He tries to frown, but he doesn’t think it’s convincing because he can feel the corners of his mouth twitching upwards into a smile. “Do you know how long it took me to get my hair just right?”

“Uh, no time at all? We both know you don’t do shit to your hair.”

“I can’t believe you’d say that to me. I stress over my hair, of course, and now it’s ruined! Hours of time, wasted!” He throws an arm across his forehead, attracting a few glances from strangers on the street.

“I’ll fix it, then.” Ryuji rolls his eyes, a big sunny grin lighting up his face. He reaches over to brush some dark bangs from Akira’s forehead, fingertips resting on Akira’s temple for an agonizing, drawn out, breathless moment. Well, an agonizing, breathless moment for Akira. Although that single action has scrambled Akira’s brains, Ryuji snorts and then gives Akira’s unruly hair another good-natured ruffling, as if it’s nothing at all to tenderly brush your friend’s bangs from his face.

Akira hates this. He hates never knowing what anything means. He hates that every little thing Ryuji does leaves him flustered and second guessing and hoping it’s a sign. And he hates that still, even after months, he doesn’t quite know where they stand. Is Ryuji trying to be flirty, or does he come across that way without trying?

“You’d better watch out, you know.” He says, bumping shoulders with Ryuji as they walk and offering a sly wink. “Someone might start to think you’re flirting with me or something.”

Ryuji tries for a casual chuckle but it sounds a bit too nervous to convince Akira. He studies Ryuji’s face, but finds no answers. The only sign of anything being amiss is that when Ryuji looks up from the concrete and finds Akira is already looking at him, his gaze flits away.

“Why would someone think that?” He rubs the back of his neck absently, braving a glance at Akira once more.

“I dunno.” He shrugs, feigning ignorance. “Would it be so wrong if they _did_ think-”

“Hey, you two!”

Akira’s sentence drops off as they turn to see a burly police officer standing outside of a shady club. He’s looking at the two of them, brows furrowed.

“Yes, you two right there! Are you high school students? You look awful young, and I swear the other day I saw a kid in a school uniform around here who looked just like you, glasses.”

Shit. Akira had been here with Makoto last Friday, because she was worried about her friend who has a job in the area. He thought if they weren’t wearing their uniforms tonight they’d be fine but… maybe not.

Akira's heart hammers in his chest, pounding out a frantic beat against his ribcage. His palms sweat. Are they in trouble? Akira had been enjoying breaking the rules a bit, but being in trouble with Lala is not the same as being in trouble with the police. He’s already on probation, after all. Will they be in trouble for being here so late? Or, God forbid, the cop can tell they’ve been drinking. He can't afford to get into legal problems.

Without thinking, he grabs Ryuji’s hand and breaks into a sprint. 

Ryuji shouts, "Wha - hey! Akira!" He gets dragged along for a second, sneakers scuffing against the concrete, before he has no choice but to start running, too. Heavy footfalls and the deep, stern voice of the cop follow them down the busy street.

Akira's never been so glad he and Ryuji started running together back in April. His lungs burn as they dash full-speed down the crowded streets of Shinjuku, chest tight and heart racing. As the distance between them and the cop grows, the panic in Akira’s chest fades and delirious, uncontrollable joy bubbles up in its place. By the time they duck into a narrow alleyway, they’re both laughing like hyenas.

Both still cackling, they struggle to catch their breath. Ryuji slumps against the grimy brick wall behind him. Akira, crowded into the narrow space in front of Ryuji, places a finger over Ryuji’s mouth.

“Shh!” He tries, but he can’t stop his own laughter, so he’s not sure why he’s even trying to get Ryuji to quiet down. Ryuji wraps his hand around Akira’s wrist as if to guide Akira’s hand away from his face, but doesn’t actually make a move. Akira moves his hand to the wall near Ryuji’s shoulder, anyway, Ryuji’s hand slipping softly off of Akira’s wrist as does so.

Crammed in the tiny alleyway, Akira realizes their clammy hands are still interlocked. He hadn’t even meant to grab Ryuji's hand when he’d started running, it had been second nature.

Face to face with Ryuji as their giggling dies out, faces flushed from the filched drinks, panting from their run, and squeezing Ryuji’s hand as if it’s the only thing keeping him grounded, Akira feels like time has slowed to a crawl. This close, even in the dim light of the alleyway, he can see the sparse dusting of freckles across Ryuji’s cheeks and the shades of honey brown in his eyes.

For once tonight, Ryuji doesn’t avert his gaze; doesn’t become sheepish under Akira’s intense stare. He holds eye contact, and the world around them disappears. Right now the streets of the red-light district - the cop, the people milling about outside the clubs and bars, the neon lights and flashy signs - don’t exist. It’s just Akira and Ryuji sharing the same space; sharing the same breath.

“Are you going to let go?” Ryuji asks, voice no louder than the hum of the neon sign they’d stood under together at Crossroads earlier.

Akira swallows hard.

“Do I have to?” He'd been snickering before, full of giddy delight, but right now he couldn't muster up a giggle if his life depended on it.

Akira has spent months unsure of where they stand; unsure if their time together has meant anything. But he knows now that _this_ moment means something. Being here with Ryuji, drunk and relaxed and in each other’s personal space, has meant something.

“No. Not if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t want to.”

Ryuji smiles. "I don't want you to, either."

Akira’s heart skips a beat. He thinks they might be on the brink here, and he’s ready to tip over the edge. He’s ready to fall into this. Ryuji's fingers tremble as he brings his hand to rest on Akira's cheek. He lets out a tiny breath, a noise that shakes like a thin tree in a storm, and his gaze flickers down to Akira's lips for half a second.

Akira leans in, closing the distance between them, and…

_Hic!_

Akira slaps a hand over his mouth, tips of his ears turning pink as the assault of hiccups continues. One. Two. A mortifying three. And Ryuji bursts into boisterous laughter. The moment is gone, the lighthearted mood from earlier is back. 

Akira isn’t upset. He laughs, too, loud and carefree, and hides his face in Ryuji’s shoulder.

"We really should head home." Ryuji sighs after they regain their composure. "The trains are gonna stop running soon."

"I know. Morgana's gonna kill me when he finds out we were drinking." He doesn't relish the idea of getting an earful from Morgana, but he snickers about it anyway. He lifts his head from Ryuji's shoulder.

They walk to the station, wary of the cop from before, and as they wait for the train together they giggle between themselves, hand-in-hand, leaning on each other as if they'll collapse otherwise. As the train pulls into the station, Ryuji squeezes Akira's hand three times - a mirror of the embarrassing hiccups that had shattered the moment earlier. And Akira knows what it means. It’s a silent little promise; a guarantee that there will be other moments that mean something. It’s a promise that when they do fall into this thing between them, they’ll take that plunge together.

**Author's Note:**

> I had a conversation like two years ago with a friend about Ryuji and Akira drinking for the first time, and I've been wanting to write this ever since. It has lived rent free in my head. Also I've never had more than one drink in my life so. Hope it's not too inaccurate.


End file.
